Gradually she worked herself into a strong fit of ill-temper. All day long she felt a growing sense of injury, and she made up her mind not to bear it. Next morning, in a towering state of self-will, she marched straight down to the Coltons, resolved at least to find out the meaning of this vexatious prohibition.
No one was on the piazza, and Janet ran up-stairs to Ellen's room, expecting to find her studying her lessons.
No; Ellen was in the bed, fast asleep. Janet took a story-book, and sat down beside her. "She'll be surprised when she wakes up," she thought.
The book proved interesting, and Janet read on for nearly half an hour before Mrs. Colton came in with a cup and spoon in her hand. She gave a scream when she saw Janet.
"Mercy!" she cried, "what are you doing here? Didn't your ma tell you? Ellen's got scarlet-fever."
"No, she didn't tell me that. She only said I mustn't come here."
"And why did you come?"
Somehow Janet found it hard to explain, even to herself, why she had been so determined not to obey.
Very sorrowfully she walked homeward. She had sense enough to know how dreadful might be the result of her disobedience, and she felt humble and wretched. "Oh, if only I hadn't!" was the language of her heart.
The little ones had gone out to play. Janet hurried to her own room, and locked the door.